


In Her Emerald Eyes

by AthenaPantheon



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, F/M, Healing, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:40:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23539243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AthenaPantheon/pseuds/AthenaPantheon
Summary: Amaara Adaar wasn't supposed to even be at the Conclave.She was promoted out of nowhere to meet demands for mercenaries, and then the Conclave exploded. The young woman was thrown into the role of the Herald of Andraste, the prophet of a God she didn't even believe in. Then, she met Lace Harding. Follow Amaara on a journey of self-discovery and love, where she learns that, despite her flaws, she can fit in and have value.
Relationships: Female Adaar & Iron Bull, Female Adaar & Varric Tethras, Female Adaar/Lace Harding, Female Hawke/Varric Tethras, Fenris/Female Hawke
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

She had been awake for days, but Amaara Adaar could not stop staring at the Breach. 

The magic of it enthralled her and terrified her at the same time. Only a week before, the Temple of Sacred Ashes had exploded, and a huge tear in the Veil appeared right above their heads. The tear, which was named the Breach, spat out demons and rifts (which were also tears in the Veil) for days. Amaara had woken up in shackles, and was treated like a criminal. In Cassandra’s defense, she had a motivation to blame her. The Seeker dragged her all the way back to the Temple, and she closed the rift there. The Breach stopped growing and releasing demons onto the frightened followers of the Divine, but it was still very much there. And then, for whatever reason, she decided to stay and help more instead of going home, where she belonged. 

She was brought out of her thoughts when Varric, a dwarf who accompanied her to the Temple, called out to her. “Hey, kid. You okay?” he asked, one bushy eyebrow raised. 

She nodded, and took another look at their surroundings. They had left Haven two days ago, and the scouts were expecting them to be there in a few hours. The sun was, however, setting, so they would have to stop soon for everyone to rest. Before they left, Josephine had told Amaara that they were taking such a big force because they were going to set up another Inquisition camp, and bring supplies to the crossroads. She was right; it was more people than she expected. They had set up a caravan system, with the three wagons moving down the center of the roads and men on horseback guarding them. Solas, Cassandra, and Varric had each gotten horses as well, but Amaara quickly found that her mount was too small. And so, she was stuck riding in the back of a wagon. Varric had been kind enough to keep her company. 

“Yes, Varric,” she spoke softly, not wanting to draw too much attention to herself. She had already failed at that days earlier, when she had been named the Herald of Andraste. The same people who called her a “filthy oxmen” or a “mindless brute” now kissed the ground she walked on. She absolutely hated it. “I was just thinking.” 

The dwarf snorted, and went back to writing his letter, but didn’t stop talking. “I try not to do much of that.” He said nothing for a moment, allowing the only sound between them to be the scratching of his quill. Amaara had to admit, he had excellent penmanship. “What about?”

“What?” she asked, looking back. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

“Oh, uh…” She didn’t really know, to be truthful. Her head had been in a thousand places since she awoke. She thought about the Temple. She thought about her friends that had died in there, and how she couldn’t save them. She thought about her parents, and wondered if they were doing alright. That topic stuck with her. “My family, I guess.” Without looking up from his paper, Varric motioned for her to continue. “I should write to them. Word will reach them soon enough, if it hasn’t already, and they’re going to be worried sick. My mother would be furious if I died.” She allowed a small laugh to slip out, and the dwarf smiled up at her. 

“I’m glad you’re still in contact with your family.”

“Believe me, so am I.”

Once again, a comfortable silence settled between the pair, and it stayed that way until they made camp that night. She and Varric, along with the Seeker and the elven mage, Solas, sat around the campfire while scouts and soldiers milled about. As they ate their meals, conversation started up between them, as it did nearly every night. 

“Herald,” Cassandra began. “How is the Mark? You haven’t said anything since we left.” 

The young woman glanced down at her glowing hand, and thought for a moment. “It’s feeling better. It hurt worse when we were at Haven, being so close to the Breach.” She gave a light shrug, then took a bite of her food. She glanced back towards the tear, craning her neck to get a better look at it. “Solas, do you really think I can close that thing?”

The elf briefly looked up from the book he was currently reading, and then to the Breach. “Well, yes. Assuming that we can get one of the mages to help us, their extra power will give you what you need.”

“There’s also the Templars,” reminded Cassandra, though she didn’t seem to have as much trust in them as Cullen. “Both groups have their advantages.”

"And they both have their problems. I don’t know if I’d want a huge group of mages _or_ Templars running free around Haven. It’s bad for business.” Varric didn’t need to say it, but everyone immediately thought of the situation in Kirkwall. 

Amaara specifically thought of Anders, the mage who had started it all. She was a little younger then, and much more innocent. She had barely come into her role in the Valo-Kas as their healer when the news of the Chantry explosion had reached her. Her company had mixed feelings on it. On one hand, he had done it with good intentions. He wanted to free mages from the oppression of the Chantry, but he had done it violently. So many people died in the explosion, including Grand Cleric Elthina. Amaara remembered wearing a grey feather in her hair for a time, showing that she stood with Anders. As did many of the mages in the Valo-Kas. They all stopped after the Circles rebelled, however, as they did not want to draw attention to themselves. 

“I don’t know,” she said sheepishly after a moment. “The Templars have always made me nervous. And I don’t think they’d appreciate an apostate telling them what to do.”

Solas chuckled quietly at that, and Varric gave a thoughtful nod. “I understand,” her fellow mage spoke as he turned a page. “The Templars in Haven still give me looks. They didn’t like the fact that I told them I knew better.”

The conversation died out for a moment until Varric said, “You know, Ten-Foot, you haven’t told us much about yourself. Where are you from?” Cassandra nodded in agreement and leaned forward to listen. 

“I was from Kirkwall, actually.” Amaara gave the dwarf a small smile. She brushed a strand of snowy white hair from her eyes and crossed her legs. “Close to it, anyway. It was only a few days away. My parents would take trips every few weeks to get supplies for the people in our settlement.” Her smile faltered, but didn’t entirely disappear. “They stopped going when the Qunari arrived. Mother was afraid that they would track her and take Father.” 

“Wow, that close, huh? Did you ever go?”

She shook her head. “I was too young. I was…” The qunari counted in her head for a moment, then answered. “I was only nine when they stopped going, so I was too young to travel. At least, that’s what my Father said.” Cassandra raised her eyebrows in surprise. She had never asked, but she had no idea the Herald was that young. The oldest she would be is 20, according to what she said. 

“Maker. Kid, you’re going to make me feel old.” Varric gave a laugh, shaking his head. He set down his bowl, wiping the remnants of the soup on his trousers. 

“What about your magic?” Solas suddenly asked. “How did they deal with it? How old were you?” For these questions, the mage actually turned his attention to her. He placed a hand on his knee as he leaned slightly in, eagerly awaiting the answers.

“It wasn’t long after they stopped making the trips, actually. I remember being outside. It was spring, and I was playing outside my house with a neighbor’s dog before dinner. I sneezed, and my nose felt so cold.” She rubbed her upper arms and gave a mock shiver, smiling. “The next thing I knew, the puppy I was chasing around was frozen solid.” Cassandra gasped, but Amaara held a hand up. “It was fine, don’t worry. The ice broke a few seconds later. My father ran out of the house. He had been watching me play, and saw the whole thing.” She paused, licking her lips. “He kneeled down before me, tears in his eyes. He put his hands on my shoulders and said, ‘Was that _you_ , kadan? Did you do that?’ 

“I nodded and said yes, and he pulled me close and started crying. At the time, I thought he was upset with me. So, I started crying too. My mother came out to get us for dinner, and found two qunari blubbering like babies. She asked what happened and sat with us, and the three of us sat in the dirt, just holding each other. Over dinner, they finally told me about father’s scars, and about why I could never see someone else like me. You see, under the Qun, he was a sarebaas. He was oppressed and abused, and his magic was a tool for the Qunari to use. He wasn’t even a person.” Amaara took in a breath, and sighed. “So, he began to train me in secret. He didn’t want me to experience what he had, nor what many Circle mages did.” 

Solas hummed as her explanation ended, eyes narrowing. Despite all his knowledge, the qunari were a mystery to him. “And you stayed hidden for that long?”

She gave a short laugh and shook her head. “No. We had many close calls with Templars, but the first time I was actually discovered was how I got my job with the Valo-Kas.” She glanced up at the moon and let out a breath. “But that’s a story for another time. I’m going to turn in. Goodnight, everyone.” She stood with a groan and listened to the chorus of ‘goodnights’ before returning to her tent. 

The camp rose early the next morning, and they packed up as soon as they had the previous couple days. Soon enough, they were back on the road. Amaara borrowed one of Varric’s books, and read it quietly until they arrived in the Hinterlands. They made camp one a cliffside that overlooked the valley. The Hinterlands were absolutely gorgeous. There were green hills rolling as far as the eye could see, and in the far distance stood Redcliffe castle. Despite being so far away from it, she could feel its power and importance. The qunari donned her leather armor and met up with her companions. 

“Herald of Andraste,” greeted a dwarf. Amaara was taken aback by her appearance; she was stunning. The dwarf’s eyes shone like the most verdant of emeralds, and her hair reminded her of a sunrise. Brown freckles dotted her skin, along with some small scars. The qunari felt her cheeks heat slightly, and she had to look away to regain her composure. “I’ve heard the stories. We all have. We know what you did at the Breach.”

The dwarf, who introduced herself as Scout Harding, explained the situation. Rogue templars and mages were attacking each other at the Crossroads, causing chaos and putting civilians in danger. Rifts were spread around the region and terrifying the refugees. Most importantly, the Inquisition scouts were unable to reach Horsemaster Dennet. She left the four with a smile, and returned to her fellow scouts. For but a moment, that smile was the only thing that mattered to Amaara. It was like she had been stopped in the middle of a leap, and was now floating in the air, weightless. She quickly shook herself out of the daze. 

“She was... wow.” Amaara’s grey eyes followed the dwarf, admiring her.

“Are you _blushing_?” Cassandra asked, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. She could see it, clear as day, that the Herald fancied the scout. She thought it was cute, if slightly inappropriate.

“What? Blushing? N-no,” she stuttered. She shook her head as she denied it, only blushing harder. She gave a huff and frowned at the other woman. Cassandra and Varric made eye contact, and they were unable to contain their smiles. The two burst out laughing, and even Solas cracked a grin. Amaara stuck her tongue out at them. “Come on, let’s go.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humans are racist, and Amaara is a bit of a coward.

Chapter Two

As they approached the Crossroads, Amaara saw countless bodies. When they had returned to the Temple of Sacred Ashes a week before, they passed many charred corpses, but it didn’t hit her. She could no longer see them as people; they were just chunks of burned flesh. But here, where the bodies were fresh and still had their faces, it finally hit her. So many innocent people had been killed. Most were pulled to the side of the road, but the ground was still red with blood everywhere. The young woman couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of them, and it was noticed by the others. 

“Come on kid,” said Varric, who had wrapped his hand around her wrist. “Don’t look.” He gave a solemn nod to Cassandra, who took the lead from then on. Varric walked with the mage side-by-side and tried to distract her with jokes. No one was in the mood to laugh. 

The group weaved through the small canyon and quickly found themselves in the Crossroads. It was much, much worse than she imagined. Left and right, refugees were being slaughtered. “The mages are attacking them!” Cassandra yelled, unsheathing her sword and placing her shield in front of her. 

“I see just as many Templars,” retorted Solas as he, too, took out his weapon. 

Varric threw Bianca from his back into his hands, loading a bolt into her. The dwarf turned back to Amaara, and gave her a concerned look. “Look, just… Stay back, okay? Things are gonna get nasty.” Already, Solas and Cassandra ran off, determined to protect the people and stop the madness. Varric looked over his shoulder as they left and shot a glance at the qunari. “Throw some barriers over the Seeker, but stay out of sight.” With that, he ran off to join the others, and she was left alone. 

Amaara stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Despite being in a mercenary company, she had never been on the front lines. She was the healer, the researcher. She wasn’t meant to be a fighter. The fear quickly consumed her, and she quietly gasped for air. She pulled out her staff and hid behind a larger rock as she tried to calm herself. “Throw up a barrier, stay out of the way,” she whispered to herself. “Just throw up a barrier and stay out of the way, easy.” Then, she took a deep breath, and stood. 

It was nothing like the stories. In one of Varric’s books, he had written how the “enemies” came in waves. The hero would take the biggest one head-on, the mages would paralyze their foes in a show of wondrous magic, and the rogues would disappear into the shadows and would only be seen again when their knife was in someone’s back. Real-life was far messier, and much less heroic. 

The fight hadn’t lasted long, but everyone was exhausted by the end of it. The qunari sat down on the stairs leading up to the upper village and ran her hand down her face. She had never seen an actual fight. It was awful. And she knew it wouldn’t leave her mind for a while, as she could still smell the blood and sweat. Her trio of companions wandered over, and Varric gave a tense smile. All three of them were covered in blood. Moreso Cassandra, who had done most of the work. She had small cuts where her armor wasn’t covering her, and Solas had a gash on his arm. 

“Here,” Amaara said quietly. “Let me help.” 

Solas retracted his arm immediately. It was obvious that he wasn’t willing to let her touch him. “Thank you, Herald, but I can heal it myself.” 

She stuck her lower lip out and frowned, furrowing her eyebrows. “You’re barely standing. I know what I’m doing, just let me heal you. It won’t take long.” 

After a moment, Solas let out a breath and sat down. He grumbled to himself in a language she could not understand, but she didn’t pay much mind to it. The elf held out his arm and she placed her palms over them. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly.

Varric watched in interest as soft, white magic came from her palms. It seemed to hum, much like red lyrium. He tried not to think much about it. The flesh and Solas’ arm slowly weaved itself back together, and soon it was like nothing had even happened. Not even a scar was left. He gingerly touched where the gash had been and hummed.

“You’re talented,” the mage complimented. 

Amaara gave a soft laugh and said, “Not really. Just doing my job.” She stood again and let out a breath. “Um, I guess I should find Mother Giselle.” She quickly looked at her three companions. “Cassandra, get cleaned up and then find Corporal Vale. Varric and Solas, could you go see what the villagers need?” They nodded and then split, each going their own way. 

As Amaara approached the Mother, she could see that she was in conversation with a soldier. The soldier was lying on a cot, and a mage in Inquisition robes stood behind them. “There are mages here that can heal your wounds,” the older woman spoke. “Lie still.” 

“Don’t-- Don’t let them touch me, Mother,” he gasped. He held his side almost defensively and shot a glare at the mage.  "He groaned as he shifted on the cot and began to shake." It seemed that he was in a lot of pain, and he would be hurting even worse if he didn’t get it taken care of. “Their magic is--”

“Their magic is surely no more evil than your blade.” The Mother kept a reassuring voice and patted the soldier’s shoulder. She waved the mage forward and then stood back, allowing him to do the work. She spotted Amaara walking towards her, and closed the distance between them. “Herald of Andraste,” she greeted, bowing her head. 

“I was told you asked for me.” The qunari glanced back at the mage who was now healing the soldier. “Odd. Most Chantry Mothers I meet hate magic.” 

“Well, I am not most Chantry Mothers, but I did not send for you to discuss that.”

“Then what did you want to discuss?” 

Mother Giselle slowly turned her head, scanning the ruined village. Bodies were lying in the streets, and Inquisition scouts were dragging them into a fire pit. Spikes of ice stuck out of the ground. A building had caught fire, and had only just gotten put out. A villager was comforting a child, trying to convince them to leave their mother’s body behind. So much death and destruction, and they hadn’t even seen the worst of it yet. 

“You must address the clerics in Val Royeaux. This war will only end when the Chantry is united with the people once more, and that cannot happen when it is actively working against you,” she said after a moment. 

“How?” Amaara furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Most of the clerics want me dead.”

“You needn’t convince all of them. Just make some…  _ doubt.  _ They are only powerful because they are united in opinion. Take that away from them, and they will no longer pose a threat.”

The qunari thought for a moment, then nodded. “That just might work. Thank you.” 

Mother Giselle gave her a soft smile as she craned her neck to look her in the eyes again. “Do not worry, my child. I believe that you can get us through this.”

She felt her cheeks flush. Amaara returned the smile, then bid the woman farewell. She met up with her companions, and they quickly told her what she needed to do. They needed to see Master Dennet, a hunter was asking for them to get ram meat, and a recruit was asking them to locate some supplies. On top of that, a man needed a potion for his wife, and Corporal Vale had asked them to look for a healer in Redcliffe. 

“Redcliffe is just up the road from here,” Varric said once they had given her all the information. “Shouldn’t take more than an hour to get in there and find someone.”

She decided that would be what they do first, and the group departed. They had very few run-ins, aside from Varric having to fire a few bolts to get the meat they needed. After Solas put the cuts of meat in his pack, Varric looked up at him with interest.

“Chuckles, have you ever thought of hitting someone with that staff of yours?” 

The elf gave him a look and responded, “No, why would I do that? I could break the staff if I hit a foe with armor. If I was in melee range, I would simply Fade Step out of the way. I wouldn’t intentionally stay there if I could help it.” 

“I guess that’s a Kirkwall-only thing, then.” 

After a few minutes of walking, they finally reached the gates leading to Redcliffe Village. A single armed woman seemed to be guarding it; she immediately stopped the group as they approached. “Redcliffe is off bounds while them mages and Templars have at each other. Turn around and go back to where you came.” 

“I’m sorry, but we need to go inside,” Amaara tried explaining. ‘We’re agents of the Inquisition.” 

The guard loudly snorted, looking her up and down. “A qunari? Right. And I’m the Queen of Antiva.” 

She deeply frowned at that and stepped back. She knew that the Fereldan people weren’t exactly friendly to races other than humans, but she still wasn’t ready to hear it. “I am, and we really need to go inside.” 

“No. Don’t ask again, or I’ll have you removed from the area, ox.”

“Okay, okay,” she sighed. “I guess we’ll be leaving now.” She quickly turned and headed back down the road. Inside, she was a mix of angry and upset. She mumbled to herself as they got out of view. 

“What was that, Herald?” Cassandra asked.

“I… I just said how I don’t like that woman.” 

Varric snickered slightly as he patted her on the arm. “Don’t worry about her. I think it’s just a stupid human thing.” After hearing a grunt from Cassandra, he added, “No offense, Seeker.” 

The four returned to the Crossroads. Amaara gave the bundle of meat to the hunter and updated Corporal Vale on Redcliffe. Then, they went down the road heading towards the farms. They passed through a small cave, and found themselves in a burnt down village. All around them, Templars and mages fought, only fueling hatred between the sides. The qunari girl swallowed nervously. How were they supposed to get through there without someone getting hurt? 

Amaara briefly scanned the field, holding her hand above her eyes to block the sun. “Um…” Most of the fighting was focused around the center of the village, where there was more room. If they stayed close to the buildings and kept their heads down, they should be fine. Plus, they would be near enough to the woods that they could easily retreat. “Alright. Here’s the plan. We need to get to Horsemaster Dennet as soon as possible, and we’ll be slowed if we try to fight them. Let them keep each other busy while we sneak around the side.” She waved her hand towards the outside of the burned village. 

“Good idea, Herald.” Cassandra placed her shield in front of her and nodded to the others. “You take point. I will watch our backs.” 

They took formation, with Amaara leading the group on the path she had decided. All four kept low to the ground. They made themselves as small as possible to not draw attention. It worked well enough, and Amaara let her guard down as they made it to the treeline. “Okay, now we--” She was cut off by a loud battle cry as a sellsword charged them. Cassandra barely had time to yell a warning when Amaara turned, raised her staff, and shot out a bolt of lightning. 

The bolt hit the man square in the chest and sent him flying. He hit a tree with a sickening  _ crack _ , and fell to the ground, limp. Amaara froze in place. She glanced down at her staff, which she barely held with shaking hands. Her chest tightened and she soon found that she couldn’t breathe. “I--” The staff fell from her hands and she held her hand in her face. “I--” 

“Shit,” Varric muttered. He glanced around quickly. “Not here, kid. Come on. Into the trees.” He grabbed her elbow and ushered her into the forest. Solas picked up her staff, and Cassandra made sure that no one followed them. As soon as they were deep enough into the forest, Varric sat Amaara down on a boulder. “Hey, take it easy,” he said as she gasped in a breath. 

“I killed him.” She looked down at her shaking hands, which she swore were covered in blood. They tingled and ached as if the electricity was jumping between her fingers. When she finally looked up, her tears spilled from her eyes. “I killed someone.” 

Varric frowned and closed his eyes, unsure of what to say. She was practically a soldier in an army. She would have to kill to survive, especially in this world. But that didn’t mean it would be any easier. 

“You had to.” Cassandra moved to sit next to the other woman. “He would’ve killed  _ you _ if you hadn’t.” 

“She’s right,” Varric agreed. “I know it’ll be… difficult, but it's the only way you’ll make it out here.”

“Do not get used to it, however.” They turned to Solas as he spoke, though his eyes were not on them. He watched their surroundings for danger, never keeping his gaze on one spot for too long. “The difference between defending yourself and killing needlessly depends entirely on you. Keep yourself and others safe, but do not resort to becoming them.”

Amaara let out a shaky breath and nodded, quickly wiping her eyes. “Okay.” She sounded almost defeated as Solas handed her the staff. “Come on, let's get going.” 

She didn’t speak much for the rest of the trip. The way the man had fallen to the ground kept playing in her head. She had been around death before, but she had never caused it. The thought of that scared her. She wasn’t ready to be like everyone else. The reason she had taken the job as the healer for the Valo-Kas was to save lives, not end them. And where was she now? 

They soon arrived at the Farms. Amaara was in no mood to negotiate, but she knew she had to anyways. The qunari forced herself to smile. She led the others up the path, taking them up to the highest house. She glanced back over her shoulder, let out a breath, and then knocked on the door. A moment passed and she got no answer, so she knocked again. “Hello?” 

Finally, the door opened, revealing a human. He had dark skin and a glare that made her shift her feet. He looked her up and down, then glanced at the others. “Inquisition?” Amaara nodded in response. “Huh. I’m glad the Inquisition is restoring order, but I never thought it would be one of you big brutes.”

She tried to ignore the comment, and instead said, “That’s right. We’re here to ask about horses. We’ve heard you’re the best.” 

“You heard right.” Dennet stepped outside of his cabin and motioned for them to follow. He walked them down to the large stables, where many different kinds of horses were feeding. “I will get you a herd, but you’re going to have to do something for me first.” 

“And what would that be?” Amaara watched the horses with a smile. Back home, her parents had a big working horse that they would use to pull the plow and the cart when they went to the city. She also remembered that, despite the horses’ size, her parents were still taller. She assumed that she would face the same problem here, even with his diverse herds. 

“I can’t send a hundred of the finest horses in Ferelden down the road like you’d send a letter. My man, Brom, has some ideas on how to fix it. You’ll also need to talk to my wife, Elaina.” 

Amaara nodded. The terms were fair enough. It shouldn’t be too hard to do, right? “Very well. I agree to your terms, Horsemaster.” 

The man gave a short laugh. “Just Dennet.” He held out his hand to her, which she shook. “Head down to the stables and have my daughter, Seanna, and pick out a horse. A token of loyalty between Redcliffe Farms and the Inquisition.” 

* * *

Days later, Amaara was back in Haven. The cold, biting wind made her shiver and she pulled her coat around her tighter. “Do we have to do this?” 

Ahead of her, Solas was using his staff as a walking stick while he led the Herald. He, too, was bundled up for the cold. It was so cold that he was actually wearing something other than wraps on his feet. The elf had to refrain from rolling his eyes. He kept his voice as even as he could and replied, “Yes, Amaara. You need to learn how to properly defend yourself.” 

She scrunched up her nose, tilting her head. “I do know how to defend myself.” 

Solas bit the inside of his cheek. Why was this child suddenly so confident in her abilities, when days earlier she was crying? He took in a deep breath through his nose. “Perhaps, but there is always room for improvement.” 

“That’s true.” She paused for a moment. “Have you trained other mages?”

“Of course. Why do you ask?” 

“I just don’t know what to think about you sometimes. You’re a little like me, you know. You love to learn, and also to teach. But you don’t really like people.”

Solas chuckled and looked over his shoulder. “Is that what you think?” 

“Well, yes.” She furrowed her eyebrows. “Am I wrong?” 

“Not entirely, no. It is true that I am fascinated by knowledge, and I am glad that you share that with me. Otherwise, I would not have offered to help you.” 

She smiled. “Then what did I get wrong?” 

“It isn’t that I dislike people. I just prefer the company of spirits, and I have been alone for a long time.” 

“Spirits?” 

“Yes. I have made friends with many, such as Wisdom and Compassion.” 

“Wisdom and Compassion? I’ve never heard of them,” she quickly moved up to walk next to him. She didn’t need to try very hard, as her legs were much longer than his. 

He nodded and looked up at her. “You would be more familiar with their other names; Pride and Despair.” 

The qunari furrowed her eyebrows. “Those are demon names.” 

“Indeed they are.” 

“So you make friends with demons? Isn’t that dangerous?”

He was glad that she was asking questions, but she was thinking about it all in the wrong way. “They are not demons. Demons are spirits with a twisted nature. It happens when they go against their original purpose.”

“That’s… amazing.” 

Solas smiled. “It is. But now we must focus on your training. Staff up, Herald.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed, and feel free to share this work!
> 
> My Tumblr: slightly-sad-scribe

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed, and feel free to share this work!
> 
> My Tumblr: slightly-sad-scribe


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